La plainte d'une amante

A solitary hill overlooks a quiet valley, its slope echoing the soft rustle of a grieving soul. A pale young woman sits amid the wind and rain, tearing letters, shattering delicate rings, and scattering ribbons into a trembling stream. Her tangled hair and straw-woven veil hint at a once‑bright beauty now dimmed by relentless sorrow.

From the path below, an elderly shepherd‑like figure approaches, leaning on a knotted staff, his eyes full of gentle curiosity. He settles beside her and asks, in a voice softened by years, to hear the cause of her anguish, promising any remedy his experience can offer. She confides that love, taken too early and given to a captivating stranger, has left her heart bruised, and that her pain, not her age, has stolen the bloom of her youth.